Matter of faith
by Sahuaro
Summary: Memories of a past long forgotten. Keys of a door no one ever wants to walk past again. In an age of change and turmoil, where religion and the sword reigned strong, a child like no other was born in the dark. These are the memoirs of a child who grew under the times were might made right. Times in wich surviving were saddly, a matter of faith
1. Prologue

_No… no! Please don't!__  
_

_Always protect her… never let go… and neither of that you so hope for. And once you have it, embrace it, treasure it… give it your all. __  
_

_No… no, please god, no…_

_Heh… you're a good girl… comprehensive and fair… honest… and…_

_**merciful**__…_

_Over there! Don't let him escape!__  
_

_I have faith in that one day you will be able to forgive all of us for the atrocious sins we have committed… them… god… me…_

_Please don't leave… don't leave me alone, please!_

_Farewell, my little girls…_

* * *

Another day were I am unable to conceive a little peace on my sleep. The dim light that manages to filter through the heavily shielded window is as annoying to my eyes as this dream is heavy to my soul. Memories of a past I thought long forgotten come to me on a rush, clustering my mind in order to torment my accursed existence. It was curious how a monster like me had to take her arm to struggle that who many gave by granted my kind didn't had… a heart.

It was curious how a being that could make the hearts of other stop on a whim, so desired its own would do the same in order to extinguish that pain, a pain so nostalgic, so furtive, so accursed. Ever since his arrival the past hasn't stopped harassing me, stalking me at every chance. Ever since his intromission this pain hasn't stopped, not even lessened… since then this poison hasn't stopped killing me.

Even now I still question the past and every single person that took part on it, however I do not reproach it… reproach nothing but one thing… why was I allowed to live? Oh, cruel joke of our god. A free and unoccupied god that's also shameless and deaf. For long years the same plead and always the same indifference.

And yet I myself cling to that fleeting hope. Just as stubborn and shameless, I keep on waiting patiently for those words to come true. I want to have faith… but how am I to keep it if I'm not even able to forgive the faults of those who condemned me to this eternal wait?

Just like those times when I was born, 5 centuries ago, I can't help but feel that my devotion will be put to test once more. I can feel that, just like that time, my holy trail is nigh… my _auto de fé_ lingers close...

I wonder… when was the last time I cried like in this moment?

I can't recall…

* * *

((Author's note: Hello and thank you for picking up this story of mine. This story is a small side-story from my much bigger one called, "The spiriting away of Gensokyo". If you feel interested, I invite you to take a look at it as well. In any case, you dont need any knowledge from that story to enjoy this one, there will be very subtle references here from the other one, but altogheter, this story could easily do as a stand-alone work, so dont worry in that regard.

Well, I don't want to spoil too much with just this prologue, so I'll stop it here. Once again I want to thank you a lot for giving this prologue (and chapter 1 too, maybe?) a chance and I hope you've enjoyed it. Best regards and will come with more chapters soon enough. Thanks.

_Auto de fé_ is spanish for whats known as "act of faith" wich was the trail imposed by the members of the spanish inquisition. It was when people where forced by the church to accept their sins, making their relinquish either their goods, wealth, moral dignity or even their lives... as we all know. I could have changed it... but felt it was better to leave it as was, hehehe.))


	2. I - Sin

I

**Sin  
**

It was strange having to use my own sheets to wash away my tears… tears that I hadn't seen in such a long, long time. It's a shame having to use such delicate cloth for something like this; however I can't allow others to see me like this… I have an image to uphold, a respect to demand and an authority to demonstrate. The days when I was allowed to cry are long left behind.

If so, then why I can't make it stop?

With a couple of soft slaps at my checks I try to reclaim my serenity and elegance once again. It seems to have worked out. I raise my face towards the window and notice the blinding light wasn't as blinding as I first thought. It's dim… very dim.

As I close the distance to the window I discover it's already daylight, however, it's cloudy. Grey clouds reign in the sky from horizon to horizon. I dare say it might even rain.

Immediately thereafter I walk to my dresser where I let my tired arms rest. Thanks to the tears, my burning and red eyes must concur perfectly with the weariness that both my body and mind express. My thirst overwhelms me and at the same time captivating. Maybe a little out-of-time, but a mid-day snack will do me no harm.

Usually my clothes are already disposed for my use, however given the fact that it is unusual for me to be awake at this hour, they aren't. I could call her to make sure she attends my every need, but no… As I well said before, I can't allow others to see this deplorable state and looks of mine.

While I attend my own needs, getting my dress, bonnet and shoes, I can't help but recall that dream. My tears are no longer running wild trough my cheeks; however I can still feel that grief in my heart. The dream, furthered by the grey of the sky, only adds weight to the remembrance. Memories of days old, days I thought I had already left behind. It seems that is not the case and they still live strong in the deepest and most obscure corner of my mind.

The darkness that reigns in my bedroom… the red of my clothes… the grey of the sky… it all converges on a single thought. He told me that the day I was born, much of what I see right now, could be seen then…

* * *

Pestilence and darkness reign wherever one tried to turn their sight. Simply put, there was no corner in the putrid dungeon where one could avert their gaze from the horrors that had been committed and that even now were being done. The laboured yells were quickly silenced by the cold and heavy stones that composed the wide walls of the prison… said yells that begged for a quick and painless death only fell on the deaf eyes of the few accursed that roamed about, counted men and women who practiced a profession no man on his sane judgment would be ever be capable to accept… or even bear.

However, between al the desperation and the pain, a door on the distance could be heard. The rumbling steps of 2 men echoed through the large aisles as hammers into the ears of the few that lived within the almost perpetual dark. Unlike the soulless executioners that wore dark capes and wide hoods, these men that descended boasted rich attires, worthy of a duke, an archbishop or even a king. The dim torches made their jewelry stand out with a somber light, from rings to collars, all in silver, gold and other exotic stones. The bastards within the dungeon couldn't fathom why men of such bearing and power where on the very stomach of hell.

From within the deepest shadows a man appeared. Covered from head to toe, the executioner greeted with a deep bow in reverence to them. It was obvious they were not here by mere mishap or coincidence. One of the lords raised his arm in signal of negation, the other one remained silent as he watched at his surroundings… at all the death and pain.

\- It's an honor to have you back, Marquis Fourner, Duke Nighcastle. It is my pleasure to inform that we have made huge leaps in the experiments and tests. I dare say that it's only a matter of time now before we finally get the perfect specimen!

\- Then that means you still have not achieved it… am I right?

The hooded man back stepped as he kept a deep, dead silence with him. Despite his hood, it was easy to tell what kind of expression was drawn on his face… one full of fear and worry.

\- T-the results… although not what expected, are incredibly encouraging. As I am telling you my lords, it-

\- Show us the "results"… - abruptly interrupted the man with a dead serious expression on his face.

Without losing a single second, the mad executioner turned around and began to guide his masters trough the dark and sinister hall, from which only cries and screams could be heard. The men went by without even flinching in the slightest at the devastating sight, as if they already knew about these… as if they knew about that disturbing solitude a little too well.

\- I notice you very calm… - One of the men commented, breaking the abysmal silence that had taken place for a couple of moments.

\- It is nothing… it's just that it's been a long time since I've last been here… - Answered his partner without paying much attention.

\- Today it's the first anniversary, isn't it?

\- Yes… - In his face, dimly lit, one could see a trace of pain, melancholy and rage.

\- Be at ease. Soon enough we'll have the means to exact revenge on those who need to pay.

Before their talk could go any further, it was violently interrupted by a horrible scream, one full of death and lamentation from one of the prisoners. With her last breath, a chained woman shrieked, trying to convey her pain and hatred to her captors, making them know that their existences would be as painful, hollow and cursed as her own. For 10 long seconds the shriek echoed… it didn't stopped until the woman finally fell silent, and alongside with her head, her life. One of the men turned to see her in her last seconds of life and could see under her a wide pool of blood, blood that came from her inner thigh and extended as a trail all the way to almost two meters in front of her. At the floor lied a strange and deformed being… it seemed to tremor uncontrollably. What seemed to be a twisted arm moved back and forth as a whip, as if it looked for something… maybe a little of mercy… for someone to end its painful life.

\- Do not pay attention to those poor souls my lieges. Those are nothing but failures… we are already preparing a new pit to dispose of them.

The hooded man quickly spoke with brutal and cold honesty and cruelty.

\- I hope these improvements you talk so much are more than simply "encouraging". You well know how much this place costs us, that without mentioning how important the raw materials are for the production of these… monstrosities.

\- Do… do not worry my lord… we are close now… you shall judge the results by yourself.

The men continued walking for a couple of seconds more. With each step they took, another helpless soul expired or watched with tired eyes the men that so indifferently walked in front of them. One couldn't know what was really the cause of deaths of this place… if the inhumane acts that took place or the pestilence in which everyone lived… or maybe…

\- Here it is… Duke, Marquis… - The man moved aside and with his arm extended pointed towards a solid rock bed. It was in its majority covered in blood and on each corner a shackle hanged. The marks of fresh blood and skin could still be noticed in them, making them realize these had been used recently.

The men took a step to the front and shoulder to shoulder to spectate whatever their mad worker had prepared for them. The fearful man walked towards the cold wall and lit up a torch, revealing his most recent achievement. As the light vanquished the darkness, the eyes of the two widened in disbelief.

Right in front of them, over the stone bed, was a small girl… a newborn. Her body, unlike every other swine of her own generation was not an aberration to the eye… all the opposite, her white and soft skin shinned with an angelical beauty and charm thanks to the faint light of the torch. Both men turned to see each other and then back at the mad scientist, who most likely was smirking widely under his filthy hood.

The man who answered to the title of marquis bent down and carefully examined the child. It was simply perfect… it was impossible to believe she was… and indeed… she was not.

Soon enough, as the eyes of the two royals grew used to the new light, a detail made itself relevant. Behind the newborn, at her back, two strange appendages could be seen.

\- What's that? – The marquis asked as he turned towards the hooded man. The other man, the duke, remained silent, still observing with prudence and care at the child.

\- Wings my lord… wings…

The duke moved himself closer to the baby and took her on his arms, raising her and showing the said wings to his friend. It was like a horrible burn scar that blackened and overshadowed the skin and the beauty of one. In a single instant, the smile of the marquis vanished and alongside it, the smirk of his employee.

\- Get rid of them – The marquis was quick to demand a fix

\- We have tried my lord… they grow almost as soon as we cut them off.

\- This can't be…

\- This girl is almost the paragon of your designs my lord… a pure vampire.

\- You said it yourself… Almost!... With those wings sprouting out of her back… and a woman nevertheless! – The marquis tries to keep his cool as he takes his hand to his forehead. – What about the mother?... Surely it's possible for her to give us another remarkable specimen such as this one!

\- Not possible, sir… the woman died after giving birth to this creature…

The bad news didn't cease to hit the marquis hopes who could only see his inversion, his hopes and wishes escape from him with every word.

\- For god's sake!... These are not good news, these are only false hopes! – The marquis howled in despair and anger as he hit the rock bed with great force.

\- Do not lose faith my lord! We have now a much more clear idea on the dosage we need to use as well as the important aspects we need to watch out for in order to create a specimen such as refined as this and more. That's why I tell you…it is only a matter of time for us to create the perfect specimen… the weapon you both have invested so much on.

The words of the executioner quickly appeased the marquis who seemed to be losing his sanity any moment now. While letting a deep and long sigh escape from him, he turned towards the path that took them there in the first place.

\- Very well… in that case you have more time.

\- Th-thanks a lot, my lieges!

The marquis turned towards his friend who was still contemplating the infant, almost utterly lost in his own thoughts.

\- **Horace**, leave that monster there. Let him get rid of it. A magnificent specimen indeed… yet in the grand scheme of things, still a failure.

\- Monster? – Finally breaking his own silence, the duke spoke a single word. That small girl that was still on his arms could only return the gaze, a gaze filled with infinite curiosity and innocence. Her little hands fluttered back and forth, as if they searched to grasp the wind within her frail fingers. However it wasn't the wind what she caught… it was a beard, wide and thick, of a red scarlet as deep as blood itself. The duke found himself surprised by this as so where those around him. Everyone could only watch that little girl take those bulky hairs and play with them between her fingers. Suddenly then, the man raised her softly until she was at the same height as his face, but all without forcing her to let go of her childish grasp. The man watched the girl directly to her eyes and she did the same as well… and then, without previous advice, smiled at him.

\- Ah!.. Excuse my lethargy my duke… I'll take care of her right now.

The hooded man rushed in order to take the girl and throw her away, but before he could lay his rotten hands on her, the duke moved the girl away. Both the demented scientist and her master, the marquis, found themselves dumb folded by the action.

\- No… you're not a monster… - the duke whispered to the wind as he eyed once again the girl.

\- Horace… you're not going to do what I am thinking... the order will never accept this and you know it.

\- **Alain**, leave the order to me. I've done way too much for them; they'll have no means to oppose.

-This has no precedent, and this thi… this girl… she's not human. Under what excuse will you keep her under your wing?

\- I'll find the way… you know it.

The marquis sighed deeply as the executioner turned his head from left to right trying to understand what was going on between his masters.

\- Fine… but remember that I cannot help you with this in case the order disapproves it. From a friend to another, my suggestion is that you get rid and forget about that… thing.

Having said that, the marquis turned towards his servant and with a single hand motion made him understand that he had enough of that place already. Without adding a single word more, he resumed his march out of the aisle directed to the same stairs that led to such a small hell on earth. Stairs which from time to time, a faint light sneaked by to induce hollow hopes on those who lived condemned there.

As the marquis figure disappeared within the darkness of the dungeon, the deafening shriek of a thunder echoed trough not only the cursed prison, but also the whole castle.

\- Duke Nightcastle… a storm is headed this way. This place was designed in such a way that all the water gets gathered here and floods the aisle and cells. This way we can clean quickly and efficiently… heheh… although I must admit it is not a pretty sight to behold, much less to be present when said flood takes place. So please, if you may, it is time to go back.

The duke once again said nothing. His total attention was centered around the beautiful child that still played on his arms. In his face a small and faint smile got drawn… a smile he thought he would never be able to recover in what is left of his life. However, at the very moment this smile grew larger on his expression, his eyes were being filled with melancholy and sadness… a strange and calm guilt he well knew he would never be able to atone.

Raising the girl high over his head, he watched her with a heart full of mixed feelings, and then, with a very soft yet deep voice said a couple of words that would mark not only his own life and the lives of many in the close future, but also the lives of those in the very, very distant future…

\- Your name, my little one, shall be… **Remilia**…

* * *

((**AN:** well fellas, there you have it... the first chapter of this little yet special story of mine. I hope you like it and once again I apologize for my english...

For those interested, a friend of mine did some drawings of various scenes from these chapters. I'll leave them here for your appreciation. Thanks again to you guys for reading and sparing me some of your time and attention and thanks to my friend for the awesome drawings! Just add mediafire´s main domain (the triple w, mediafire and the dot com) at the beggining of the string to access the image.

/view/a5bc1xhw4a8rvaj/baby%20Remi%

/view/mdzztynaay2lkvb/Remi%20baby%20and%

and one more... she will probably scold me for uploading this one, but I'll apologize later XD. I do want to share these with you guys.

/view/efq8gnzfzh9rdvz/Remi%20peque%2C%20Remi%

/view/3vnsjpokpu2h2vx/Remi%

And thats it. Hope you like them as much as I do, lol. I'll be bringing chapter two as soon as I can. Just like my other story, this one is already done up to the next chapter, so I need to translate everything first. Thanks and see ya around!))


	3. II - Compassion

II

Compassion

A new day, a new nightmare. The memory of a long lost past that even now torments me. Whit him leaving I imagined that said agony would come to an end but alas, that was no longer a matter of him being here or not... the door was now open and not because he was no longer here it would simply close on its own again. No, it wasn't that easy.

It's hard for me to accept it but I fear that only time will be able to close such a chaotic gate. I hoped in vain that his march would bring peace once again to my blackened heart but that was not the case. His arrival and his march were as sudden and shaky as those days of old, he came like an augury of good luck… and left leaving way too many questions as well as open wounds. As if my own grief wasn't enough, he also opened an old wound I thought was already all patched up.

Day by day, keeping my sister in check has become a martyrdom to either me, my servants or whoever. The work of 5 centuries was destroyed by the whim of a boy who I myself opened the doors to do so. I allowed him do as he well pleased. I thought it would be fun… I thought he would be like everyone else… I thought he would fail. 

But alas, cruel irony… the joke was on me! 

Now my young sister of golden locks boasts a smile just as radiant as her hair. Her insatiable curiosity, her overflowing happiness and her brutal honesty… all appetencies almost impossible to fulfill. Truth is, I don't think my girls can keep up with this pace for much longer. I still can't understand how this man could, on his own accord, deal with her and keep her pleased. Even me, who am her sister, can barely keep up with her phase. 

Yet I think that in the end, despite the pain not only of my body or head, despite the constant nagging and the disturbing laughter… it is the melancholy of being able to see and hear all of this once again what really makes me give in. 

A new day, another nightmare… but long them, the remembrance of days forgotten. The woods covered in white by the snow did nothing but add weight to the memory.

-

Winter was now over the green provinces and the snow covered in a soft and beautiful mantle everything the eyes could see. From horizon to horizon, the white prairies contrasted with the blue and gray tones that painted the sky. Serenity reigned over the land that was now claimed and worked by men, and, just as the soil itself wore pure white, so did a little girl.

_Our Father, which art in heaven,_

_hallowed be thy name;_

_thy kingdom come_

_in earth as it is in heaven._

Crowning the white hills that embellished the horizon, a majestic castle stood tall, blending in a magical way with the colors of the firmament. The gray of its stones could give a cold impression of loneliness, however life and tenacity was what thrived inside its well lighted veins. Brimming with servants that go from way to the other, every single one of them with something on their hands. From cutlery and food to fine silks and clockwork. Every single of those being a good of the finest quality, stuff only a king, or in this case, a duke would buy.

_Give us this day our daily bread._

_And forgive us our debts,_

_as we forgive our debtors._

Indeed, the luxurious castle rejoiced with life and delight, however there was a section of the impressive structure that lied far from the sweet warmth of the winter sun. It was the top level where only a very select few handpicked men and women could enter. Only men of unwavering loyalty but above all, strong will could go beyond the great Oak and willow door that divided the great castle from a pretty much public space… to one where not even the sun was welcomed.

Across the dimly lit corridors a soft and angelical whisper could be heard, praying, giving thanks to a certain god for a miracle. Resting behind a gorgeous door of red maple, a small girl was on her knees in front of her messiah. With her small eyes closed and her hands intertwined in the front, firmly holding a silver cross, the child recited her sign of happiness and devotion. 

_And lead us not into temptation;_

_but deliver us from evil._

_For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever_

___Amen_

As the young lass finished her plight, the scarlet door starts to open slowly and quietly. From within the shadows a girl appears, her white and black clothes quickly reveal her status as a maid.

\- Forgive me for my intromission my lady, however the duke has returned and is waiting for you on the library.

At those words the girl hurries. Without losing her grace and demeanor, turns towards the messenger and with a serene yet radiant smile, answers with lovable words.

\- Thank you very much for bringing me this joyful new. Please, do tell him that I am on my way. 

The maid remains silent for a few instants as she glances at her master, at how she stands up and blushes. It was more than obvious that this new made her glee all over the place. The small girl walks towards her big drawer and, still with a huge smile on her face, looks back and forth as she examines her clothes, wondering which would bear the most class and marvel today.

\- As you command, Lady Remilia 

The minutes went by and a feast was already waiting on the long dining table of the main hall. A hall reserved only for a few, few privileged individuals. Next to the main seat stood a man of long hair, his scarlet hair made perfect homage to the mighty nickname by which many knew him, from acquaintances, members of the court to even the poor and filthy villagers. His short yet thick scarlet colored beard made a perfect set for his wine colored jacket, made from extremely fine and soft silks, all of it embellished by fine lines of gold that shone with bright and warmth thanks to the light of the countless candles that illuminated the place.

He waited patiently for his special someone to arrive. The exquisite feast, as exotic and abundant as it was did nothing to distract or tempt him. His looks indicated patience, yet he playing with the cutlery denoted his anxiety to see that which gave his life a meaning. 

\- Horace! 

Suddenly and without warning, a small and frail yell echoed through the hall. From one of the many aisles that same kid that a moment ago prayed with such faith and serenity appeared. Dressed in a white as pure as the snow and her soul, the child couldn't contain a huge smile as she saw the man of thick scarlet beard. As if she had forgotten her façade, the girl runs towards him, finally acting her age, and reaches him with a huge leap.

\- Ah! Remilia, my little one! Happy birthday!

\- I missed you so~~ much! You have no idea how bored I have been ever since you left… 

The sweet complains of Remilia only manage to draw a smile on the face of the red-head.

\- Why is that? Have you not played with the maids? – He calmly asked. 

\- Yes… But they are terrible at playing games! – With a small hop the kid reaches for her protector and clings to him – It's so easy to beat them… Horace is my best playmate after all!

\- Hahahaha, is that the case? – A loud laughter fills the hall as he places his big hand over her light-blue toned hair and with care starts to fondle it. – Well, thank you then, this humble servant only does what he can.

\- Teeheehee – Young Remilia simply answers with a small smirk and a short giggle. At that moment something shines on her face which doesn't take long to reach her mouth. – Ah, that's right! Today Remilia turns seven!

Seems like in the excitement of having her protector back, the little girl forgot that on that day her seventh birth anniversary was celebrated. One could say that she had already received her present.

\- That is right my little one, you are now seven years old. – Horace repeats as he keeps on meddling with her hair.

\- I'm no longer little! – By puffing her checks, the girl laments herself – I am already a grown lady, big and sublime!

\- Oh, then forgive my lack of manners, my lady – Horace quickly bows.

\- Now that's much better – Remilia nods as she pats him in a lofty way. – This means we can now play outside too!

At that exact moment, a small fraction of the joy broke alongside a piece of the heart of the man. In his smile, a small, almost insignificant curve of grief appeared. However as the superb politician he was, he hides his pain and sorrow with speed and skill.

\- Heh… we will see my littl— my lady – Taking her from the arms, raising her for a few instances and then leaving the girl in front – But first, how about we eat?, today is your day, therefore I have made sure all your favorite food is served here.

Against such words Remilia skips a hop in excitement. Jumping like a bunny, clapping with her hands and flapping her wings the girl rushed towards her seat, just next to Horace "The scarlet". After taking her seat, the little girl rushed towards the cutlery and without a hint of restraint, attacked the desserts and other distinguished dishes. Well educated was Remilia, but against Horace she was nothing but a little girl, an impatient kid, hyperactive and full of life. By having utmost care to not attract the kid's attention, from under the table the man took a glass of milk and a small needle. With caution he pinches his fingertip from which a red drop forms, red as fire itself. Giving it a slight dip, he joins both milk and blood into one and then mixes them well. Once done, Horace raises his arm revealing the tasty glass of "strawberry milk", a delight well preferred by the little vampire.

\- And tell me, did you behave while I was away? – Horace asks as he cuts with measure and grace his own portion of cherry pie.

\- ¡Fguy ffgiefl!, ¡Bgu gfegfe fuefbgafof gif fufgeg-! 

She was far from finished when the red-head had her small lady stop by raising his hand in front of her, both as a signal as well of a personal shield. He hadn't even taken a bite from his cake and his beard already was brimming with crumbles of both bread and cream, all gift of his kid. 

\- What did I say about talking on the table?... oh well, all in all I am the one at fault, heh. – He quickly answers himself – First swallow and then talk.

\- The lass was pretty much shocking on her own dinner as he talked. She took herself a few seconds as well as a few sips of her drink before she could swallow her gigantic bite. After that she rested both her fork and took her napkin and cleansed her mouth in a rush just before recovering her composure.

\- My bad… Heheh…

A single gesture, a single smile. That was all the bearded man needed in his day and life. He couldn't bring himself to scold her, much less today.

That way an hour went by, between tales and laughter the two of them celebrated the special day. The maids and butlers traversed frequently around the table, bring back and forth feasts and drinks for the two who were condemned to never be father and daughter. A somber guilt lingered on the heart of Horace who could only see time fly away from his hand. Behind those smiles and hugs, a trace of bitterness slowly killed him from the inside.

Nighttime fell and young Remilia was already on her bed. Horace was at her side, accompanying her as he read a tragic tale, curiously enough, the girl's favorite. With a smile and a good night the girl gave up against the sandman. As she slept soundly, her protector kissed her forehead and then left. Horace went back to the main hall, to that same world of pain and grief he knew a little too well.

\- My lord, you have a visitor. – A maid came with news.

Without saying a word, the duke followed his maid. Soon enough both arrived to the main hall where a familiar face waited for him. Horace was not surprised of receiving visitors now and then, but he was indeed surprised that such visitor was no one but that friend with who he shared every fight in his life.

\- Alain!

\- Horace, my friend!

With vigorosity, both men hug each other and with the same strength they pat their backs. One can easily see the renewed joy in both of their faces.

\- It is good to see you

\- I say the same Horace. I can see the years still favor you!

\- Bollocks! It's only the beard which manages to hide these years pretty well. You on the other hand… Hah! Time does not wither you away but the opposite! It exalts you! 

\- Heh. Well, people say that today's trend among the young is having a few years over one's shoulders.

\- Hahahaha

Both the marquees and the duke laughed. Both where happy that after so many months, they could finally sit down to see each other and talk.

\- But tell me… is the little one still awake?

\- I'm afraid not… you arrived a little too late this year my friend. – Horace accompanies his friend back to where couches await for them, just next to tall bookshelves. Thousands and thousands of books, every single one already read by the master of the house as well by the little girl that his shadow protects. – Here, take a seat.

\- Thanks – Alain replies, making himself at home.

\- There has been no year where his uncle had failed her – The red-head joked as he ordered with his hand a drink for his well loved guest. – What made you arrive late today? 

\- Tell me about it. Something tells me I will have to give her a long apology tomorrow. – Alain traversed his hand to his pocket where with caution and care he played with something, most likely a gift for the little girl. Then, without notice, a shadow appeared on his façade and alongside it, on his friend as well.

For a handful of moments an abysmal silence reigned between the two. Words had already been said yet a question still lingered unanswered. Horace noticed in his friend a growing darkness and a weight he had never seen before on him. Alain was now serious, looking at the window and stealing a glance from the moon the shone brightly on the sky. His heart weighed but his will would not shake. He had already made his mind… but the questions being, was his friend as well?

\- The order will be here tomorrow…

Marquees Fournier's words were few and short yet enough to surprise Duke Nightcastle. Even so he managed to remain calm, his face not showing a single hint of amusement.

\- Go figure… after all these years. Do they finally deem me worthy of their attention again?

\- Horace, you need to understand.

\- Understand what Alain? – Horace quickly confronted his friend. In his face kindness was no more, only decision. For years he dedicated his life to the order, and how did they thanked him back?

\- The situation wasn't easy to handle… I warned you. You know well I warned you that day!

Both men were now standing in front of each other, both holding their stance against the other. 

\- And please, don't try to play victim with me. You too are at fault in all of this. Ever since you adopted her, you changed my friend… - Alain's words tried desperately to echo on the conscript heart of his best friend.

\- She has nothing to do with this Alain, we know it and so do they.

\- You named her after your dead daughter!

The voice of Alain echoed mightily on both the hall and his friend's heart. That heavy revelation quickly took root on the hearts of both men. In an instant, the scarlet bearded man took a step forward and filled with rage grabbed the collar of the jet-black haired man. As he raised him into the air, he stared full of anger, pain, but above all, impotency.

\- How do you want for them not to speak about you!? You know what they say?... A lunatic! Lost lamb and shameless!... A madman that pacts with the very devil! But to the devil with all of them… for years I have stood for you with tooth, nails and soul! But you my good friend… with each day that goes by I feel that your soul divagates more and more from our mission.

Horace remained silent; all he could do was staring at him with seriousness. He listened at the marquees, but the detail was if said words where reaching their intended goal.

\- I no longer can see that flame of old in you… I just see it when of her it is about. It is strange for me to go through these feelings as well. An unholy being whose main purpose and design was engineered by the very same Satan… yet with a soul as pure of that of an angel. I can't even imagine what kind of self-imposed punishment you have gone through, but even I Horace, even I am starting to fear… I fear for your sanity. Why did we start this enterprise? What was our main objective? – Suddenly, Alain made a heavy pause. – Ah… I fear that you have forgotten about it. Tell me, what kind of honor do you give to their memory in this kind of situation? Naming your firstborn the same way as a vampi—

The marquees couldn't finish as a tremendous blow made him stop dead on his track. However in the face of the marquees was neither anger nor hatred, all the opposite… only pity for his good friend. He could tell that Horace was going through a great deal of pain despite the anger that was displayed on his menacing stare.

\- And tell me… what about her? Is she aware of the destiny that waits for her? Is she even aware of what she is? If she hasn't, she will do soon. The day where she questions her appearance and lifestyle will arrive sooner than later. Enemy of the sun and the light, I can't help but feel sorry for… - Alain stopped and after another long pause and staring at each other, he continued. – For my niece…

Having said this, Alain stood up and Horace calmed down. Both let themselves fall on the couch at their respective backs. The duke did nothing but sigh in hope that his breath would slowly by steadily recover the serenity it needed.

\- I am worried… for both of you. – Alain quickly added – The lord acts in such mysterious ways, sometimes even completely mischievous and unexpected. I don't know what he has in wait for me after having me feel warmth for a denizen of the dark, but I am only his humble servant, and do not forget it Horace, that you are as well. We are here to fulfill a holy mission.

Horace said nothing. He could only listen, although now more relaxed… but this calm was only of body and mind, both his heart and soul where still heavily burdened.

\- The order will arrive tomorrow. I suggest that both of you are prepared to receive them. I'll see you again tomorrow as well my friend.

With nothing else to say, the marquees of clear eyes, black hair and tired expression left the hall. The meeting had been both sweet and sour. It left a burden on Horace who could do nothing else but deeply think and, maybe, pray.

Next morning, that said hall where the two men fought was now packed with faces and stares. About two dozen men were gathered in the room, every single one of them of high reputation. From knights to marquises, to dukes and even kings. This was a reunion like no other, yet also rather secretive, somber and to a degree… sinister. 

Between all the peculiar yet corrupted faces that roamed around, one dazzling one walked oblivious around them. Like a porcelain doll, young Remilia roamed and was exhibited to every single one present in that room. For the first time in the whole life of the little vampire, she moved among masses of people without the fear of punishment or restrain. It was all very confusing to her, yet because her protector ordered so, the girl displayed a kind look and an even kinder heart. Each man thoroughly inspected her, observing and analyzing every single detail about her, from the body to how well she behaved. She timely answered to their every question and need, blessing every single one of them on the way out. At the end the men had nothing to say… in their expressions a cautious and meticulous idea took shape

At the very end of the feast, Marquees Alain accompanied Remilia back to her room, taking advantage of the opportunity to finally hand his gift to the well loved girl. All the men left in the hall gathered up, leaving Horace out at the side, which didn't amused him at all. After a few moments the marquees returned, taking place next to him, no longer with a smile on his face but seriousness in contrast. Finally, a member of the order broke apart from the circle and whispered to the marquees ears.

Soon enough, all the members of the order bid their farewell to the host and as soon as they arrived, left. Once again only two men remained in the hall… those inseparable friends, one black and the other red.

At the distance hundreds of carriages disappeared in the horizon, however from among all of them one more appeared. Unlike the rest, this one didn't followed the path of the sun, all the opposite, it traveled back to the castle that the order had just left behind. Horace quickly noted this and didn't took his time to ask.

\- What was the point of this charade?

\- By designs of the order, I was forbid to tell you about something that happened a few years ago… not until now at the very least…

The red-heard turned towards his friend, full of confusion. There was something in his words and his face that rubbed him the wrong way. Obviously, there was something more, something that he waited for and that made Horace hesitate. 

\- 5 years ago a child was born – Alain finally mentioned. His voice was a little agitated. The heart of the duke suddenly skipped a beat as he heard those words – Born under conditions similar to those of Remila. However, unlike her, this girl was what we desired for years. 

Horace's eyes opened wide. That couldn't be true… there was no way that could truly be the case. Or was it?

\- Unlike Remilia, this child had no visual defect…

\- Had? – Horace quickly interrupted.

\- You'll see, it's more like… her predisposition… - The marquees simply mentioned that and remained quiet, only whispering a last sigh as he waited for the carriage to arrive. Both Horace and Alain looked at each other, both were already conscious of the next step. The lord of back hairs walked towards the carriage door and slowly opened it up while with his other hand, he provided the poor being that descended with a parasol.

From it, a lass appeared, with locks as golden as a light from the sun. She was as small as little Remilia yet in her face no smile had ever been seen. No, her expression was empty, deprived from any kind of joy. The girl made her way down of the carriage and raised her look towards the red bearded man, gazing at him with eyes as red as the beard of the duke. Unlike the other child, from this girl's back nothing sprouted unsightly so.

\- Given Remilia's magnificent development, the order has commanded you with this endeavor.

Horace was perplexed about such statement. As he saw the little girl, his heart shrunk and the courage to reject this vanished from his thoughts. Alain could understand his pain well, but this was a mission given by god. Under such reasoning and for the greater good, both men could do nothing but to give in and sacrifice themselves.

The duke took a step towards the girl and then kneeled to her own height. Once he was in front of her he could notice most of her face was covered by the heavy cloak she wore, both in fear of men and the sun. Horace raised his hand to his face and then, filled with melancholy and tenderness, asked in a soft voice.

\- What is your name, little one?

The young lass raised her stare, revealing her soft face to the man everyone knew as "The scarlet" and "the castle". A hard man, unshakable and quite the manipulator. Feared by many, both rich and poor alike, yet loved by some others, all peculiar characters on their own. How many could presume of receiving a smile from such a stern man? Not many, I could give you that much.

The little girl then answered the question with a voice just as tender and soft…

\- Flandre from the French Flanders… my lord… 


End file.
